Milk and No Sugar
by jaimewriteswords
Summary: Some things just feel right. Fluffy coffee shop au.


"A medium coffee, milk and no sugar, to stay, please." Elena was standing behind the counter, her hair soaked into dark spikes from the rain. Her hands flitted nervously across the surface of the counter, tapping heartbeat rhythms into the cool gray stone.

"Coming right up," said the barista as his lips twisted in a smirk. He had a face that was made for smirking, Elena thought, all twinkling devilishness and playful eyes. "Anything for a lady in need."

She fumbled in her bag for a few quarters and crumpled singles as he brought the drink to her. "Just one second, I know it's in here somewhere."

"No need, it's on the house," he said quickly, trying to catch her eye.

Elena peered up at him and smiled. "Thanks . . . Damon," she read off his nametag.

"Any time." He handed the cup to her, purposely brushing his hand against hers.

Elena lifted the cup in gratitude, glanced up once again at the impossible blue of his eyes, and made her way to a tall table in the corner, nestled between two wide windows. She liked to watch the people rush by, rain-soaked and eager, in their black rain slickers and beneath open umbrellas. The water rushed down around her and she took a hot, grateful sip of coffee.

She opened her laptop and listened to it whir to life, opened a blank document page and stared.

The page stayed blank, so she took another sip, and another, and another. The screen stayed white and her belly grew warm as the ceramic mug emptied.

A sigh escaped her lips at the sight of the blinking black bar. Her first assignment for Techniques in Writing was due in a matter of days, but that didn't seem to matter to her unyielding imagination. She reached for another sip of coffee, only to find a few empty dregs.

"Looks like you could use another."

Elena looked up, and found herself face to face with the blue-eyed barista. His hair was a little too long in the back, messily curving around the top of his neck. He had a second mug of coffee in his hands, smelling hot and bitter and sweet. Elena could almost see the curls of steam off the top.

"I could; I really could. Thank you," she smiled gratefully back to him and took a sip. "Ohh, that's good. That's really, really good. Thank you."

"Milk and no sugar, right?"

Elena nodded as she put the mug down.

He was still standing there, and not quite sure what to do with his hands, which were still half-curved in the shape of the coffee cup. "Do you want to sit?" Elena offered, pushing a loose lock of damp hair behind her ear. He glanced back at the counter. "Unless you have to get back to work. I mean, um. If you want."

"No, I'm on break. I'd love to sit." He smiled again, with crinkled eyes. "I'd be more than happy to help you with that, you know, if you need a heartbreakingly handsome interviewee or anything." He gestured to her opened laptop.

"I'm not sure there's anything to help _with_ at the moment. I'm sort of stuck."

"Not a problem. How about: _Can You Be_ Too _Attractive?_ : _One Barista's Struggle for a Normal Life."_ He made a marquis in the air with his hands as Elena laughed. He laughed too, at seeing her, and the way her nose got round and scrunched at the top when she smiled, and she felt a slow melt of joy spread through her body.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"I'm Elena."

" _Elena_. Lovely name."

The rain had picked up, was plummeting against the windows in heavy strokes.

"You're Damon, right?" He nodded. "So, Damon. What do you do when you're not charming students at coffee shops?"

"Well I'm charming in all kinds of places, not just coffee shops, first of all."

"And second of all?"

Damon tilted his head to one side, catlike. "What do you do, when you're not beguiling unassuming baristas?"

"I'm pre med at the university. Writing minor. And you didn't answer my question."

"That's only because you are so much more interesting than I am. I guarantee it."  
"Am I? And how do you know?" Elena closed some of the space between them, leaning in so there was nothing in his blue eyes but her.

"It's all over your face. You're . . . fascinating. You're eager. Lively. You want the world, the whole world."

"You don't even know me," she said, with a purr to her voice that said the opposite.

"Maybe not," he admitted. "But I know what I know. You're something else." Their voices had sunk to whispers without even noticing it. The rain was heavier than it had ever been and the din of the coffee shop had vanished into the deluge. His hands were an inch from hers, then barely anything, then almost touching, almost caught in each other.

"Hey Salvatore!" A man's voice called from the counter. "You looking to come make some coffee any time soon?"

Elena looked up, suddenly remembering where she was, and the now tepid coffee mug sitting before her. " _O_ h," she breathed.

"Duty calls," Damon sighed, and smirked, and stood. He grabbed his apron from the back of the stool and started to tie it on, when Elena's hand caught his before he could move away.

"Wait. You never answered my question."

"Oh, right. The truth? I don't know. I keep _looking_ , but it all just feels the same." He looked her in the eye, bowing his head like one half of a dance pair. "Or, almost all of it."

And then the slick smile returned to his face, and he vanished behind the counter into a sea of brass and gurgling pots.

Elena checked the time on her computer. She still had an hour before she was supposed to meet Bonnie and Caroline for dinner. She started writing.

' _Some things in the world are certain. Some things are so certain that you know them before you know that you do. Things like full mugs of just the right coffee, and rainstorms, and impossibly familiar bright blue eyes . . .'_

* * *

Elena walked into the coffee shop, the morning sun still warm on her back. She walked up to the counter, and stood there patiently, trying to keep her smile down to a socially acceptable wattage as she waited for the barista to turn around.

"Milk and no sugar, right?"


End file.
